


Dissipate

by Blaze22



Series: Lost [2]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Falling In Love, Lacie & Bertrum are Lost Ones - Freeform, They don't remember the past - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-10-15 09:33:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17526209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blaze22/pseuds/Blaze22
Summary: What is behind those mournful, orange eyes of the Lost Ones? Only misery, or is gaining hope aside from the Ink Demon even a plausible idea? We shall see.





	1. Chapter 1

Life was hell.

Then again, could this even be considered life? There was no purpose or desire remaining - only an inky shell of what once was. 

In the beginning, the world appeared realistic - but then it was like a switch had been flipped. The surrounding world had been turned into a live cartoon setting, painted with hues of only black and amber. 

For this specific ink creature, the oldest and most clear memory available was of rotting in a jail cell, days wasting away. Ahead of that were brief snatches of a glass encasement and a man in a wheelchair(dubbed the Creator later on), but besides that, her memory was as blank as a clean slate. There were only a few others like her at first, but their numbers slowly began to multiply. 

The group of them looked like monsters. They were hideous, skeletal figures made up of ink. The ink seemed to sag off of their bodies, yet somehow all remained composed. Orange, glowing, ember-like orbs were in place for eyes.

They called themselves the Lost Ones.

Lost, because the gaping hole in all of their souls was shared. The whole thing was unnatural - each knew they used to have an identity prior to their rebirth stemming from the Ink Machine, but they could never remember what it was. Trying to recall the past life was like watching sand slip through fingers, each coveted grain falling back into the unfathomable abyss one by one.

All feelings of happiness, love, and joy were leeched from their spirits, leaving behind confusion, sadness, and an overwhelming sense of hopelessness. The Lost Ones were clearly resigned to this fate of simply existing, no longer holding a purpose.

The time spent in the jail cells in the odd, cartoon world was horrific. The Creator would take away one or two of them at a time and hand them over to a squirming blob of ink. The details of what or who the creature was were unclear, but the Lost Ones knew one thing - if they were unlucky enough to be chosen by the Creator, they would be subject to a tortuous death. 

This terror remained as time passed, though roles were switched. The Creator disappeared, but the creature he had been handing over the Lost Ones to had become an angel. She did the exact same as he once did, taking them by force for her own purposes. Few witnessed what their companions suffered in her grasp, and those few who did were always too hysterical to repeat the tale. 

They all loathed the fallen angel.

A select few also attempted to escape the studio, but the result was a return to the inky puddle from which they had been born from, never to return. Often times this was because the Ink Demon or some other predator had caught them while they were wandering, searching for a nonexistent exit.

There was one ink creature who came later who was different from the rest. He would talk about hope and being set free. The skeletal beings quickly caught interest in him, craving the things he spoke of.

The well built creature became most commonly known as Sammy. As time passed, his prophetic teachings about the Ink Demon spread like wildfire among the group, and soon they, too, began to worship Bendy. Sammy became the Lost Ones' leader and 'priest' of sorts, as he was the only one who could bring something other than agony to their souls. 

Little did they know, as soon as their belief began, their numbers began to decrease in double - now their lives were not being taken and sacrificed just by the angel.

Sammy, however their leader, did not direct their sense of how to live. He often resided in the upper levels of the studio, wheras they stayed in the lowest levels, terrified to venture into the territory of whom they worshipped: the demon.

They did need food and sleep - though minimal compared to their previous life. Thus, the Lost Ones mutually agreed on building a place for them to safely reside - a town of sorts to live in.

It required effort, but they found themselves joining forces with the souls who literally lived in the ink puddles littered amongst the studio. The Lost Ones often referred to them as Searchers - perhaps representing their search and thirst for freedom from the ink that they were bonded to.

Slowly, but surely, the village began to piece itself together. That is what brought her to walking along a dirt pathway, carrying wooden boards in her arms. She was heading to the large, dirt clearing that was just off of the shore of the Ink River. They had discovered it some time ago and decided that that was where the village was to be constructed. 

After putting her load in a growing pile of similar looking planks, she was directed by another Lost One standing nearby to join someone else across the clearing and help with their task - which was attaching wooden boards to each other to form a wall. She nodded in reply to their request, and moved to join the other. 

She knelt down beside the ink being, on their right side, and began to work on the other side of the partial wall. It was kept flat on the ground, wooden planks being vertically attached to one another to create a rectangular shape. The other acknowledged her prescence with a nod. Moments silently passed between the two as they worked, though not uncomfortably.

Communication between one another was possible, but purposefully limited. Most of the Lost Ones kept to themselves and their own misery, only speaking when necessary. But, body language was a large part of their communication. It was also common to write on the walls to express their thoughts, for all to see.

She reached to the left to pick a tool up when she felt the other's long, cold fingers brush hers. An electric shock bolted through her as she stared at them, orange embers locking in on orange embers - so they had felt the odd sensation too. 

≻───── ⋆✦⋆ ─────≺ 

Lacie propped her grease coated elbows up on the desk, frowning at the neck of the duck head that was in her hands. A clink on the other side of the room reminded the Southern woman of the other prescence with her. It was Bertrum Piedmont - her coworker and the head of the Research and Design department. 

Her hazel eyes narrowed in on the automaton that he was hunched over. Lacie cleared her throat and said, "What's that thing gonna do, anyways? All it does is sit there and give me the creeps."

Bertrum did not look up from his work. "It's going to walk someday - maybe dance! With the right programming . . ." he paused and held a bundle of wires close to his face, before winding a piece of twine around them and setting it to the side. "You can do just about anything."

A shiver ran down Lacie's spine as she looked back to the duck head, her short, brown curls brushing against her cheek at the motion. Those pie cut eyes were terrifying; the body looked like it would spring to life with a blink of an eye at any given moment. 

The middle-aged woman found her gaze traveling back to Bertrum. In short, he was not a good-looking man. Wrinkles were embedded into his face, his thinning hair and mustache were colored a dark grey, and his eyes were the most dull, mud colored orbs that she had ever laid eyes upon. Plus, his ego could fill an entire room. These were all observations that were able to be gathered by any worker in the studio.

Then again, Lacie was not any worse for wear than him - age had solidified her already weathered appearance, but her small statured body was still well-muscled. And, all of her features were quite ordinary. 

The two of them had developed a relationship that was a balance between an acquaintanceship and a friendship. In short, they tolerated each other at a higher level than they did to the rest of their department. Lacie personally preferred interacting with someone who had a brain enlodged in their skull, unlike the rest of the fools who played games all day on this floor level. She could not read Bertrum's mind, but she assumed that he thought similarly.

The two worked in a comfortable silence for some time more until Lacie broke it again with a simple question about Bertrum's previous work that he had done before being hired by Joey Drew.

After that, she and Bertrum fell into a quiet conversation that mostly contained small talk. It was not much, but it was a nice distraction. Lacie, grateful to have company while being in the same vicinity as the animatronic, welcomed it with open arms.

≻───── ⋆✦⋆ ─────≺ 

She swallowed, neck muscles contracting as she stared at the other ink creature. 

The other was the one to finally break eye contact.

"Excuse me," she said.

"It's all right," the other quietly returned. They were male, she figured, judging from the deep voice. 

And with that they continued to work in silence. Her mind churned as she occasionally stole a glance to him, and it was obvious he was doing the same. 

No matter how hard any of the Lost Ones tried, no one had yet connected with a family member or friend from the past life. Many deemed it impossible. But, it was possible to form a companionship with another soul, though it was still rare. If a pair did happen to connect, it was believed that the past life had nothing to do with it.

A rare sense of hope washed through her. Whatever the connection her soul was trying to form, she would gratefully accept it. 

The project they had been working on was left to wait for the next day. Night, in its own sense, was falling. The pair walked across the clearing, joining the others gathering together. Many cots had been found recently, granting the Lost Ones a comfortable place to sleep.

She glanced over to him. "Want to sleep over here?" she asked. He nodded, and followed her to a pair of empty cots.

The two settled down for sleep, the rustles and whispers of the others eventually lulling them both into darkness. For the first time ever, something other than misery accompanied her to her dreams. 

Hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of trying something new just for fun with this story.


	2. Chapter 2

Sobs racked her body and rang out in the air, leaving her breathless. She cried out again and hunched over, trying to wish the pain away. Why she had tried to forcefully remember the past, she did not know. Understanding that she could not recall her memories had only stirred up a self-inflicted well of tormenting grief inside of her heart.

She sat against a wall within a location of the amusement park, her knees pulled up to her chest and head buried in her hands. That was when she heard cautious footsteps approaching. She barely glanced up enough to see who it was - it was him. He sat in a similar position as her - back pressed against the wall, and knees brought up.

She and the other Lost One had formed a bond in the past week. They had spent more time around one another while building the village, and she was now comfortable in his prescence, as he was in hers. An odd feeling accompanied her whenever he was near, like she did not deserve the mercy of his friendship inside of this hellhole.

After what felt like an eternity, her weeping faded away. Soothed by his presence, silence now saturated the atmosphere. She glanced to the side and sniffed. "Thank you," she whispered. 

He nodded, and she glanced away again, orange eyes trained on the ground. She could feel his gaze boring into her as a moment of silence passed. He then asked, "What was troubling you? If you don't mind sharing, that is."

So much for being distracted. Nevertheless, she answered. "I was tryin' to remember. It's just that I _know_ that I had people I cared about, and they cared about me . . . and I'm here instead. Trapped and forgotten forever." Grief washed over her once again, causing her to choke up. These waves of despair had not recently occurred until this point, due to her busying herself and growing accustomed to her surroundings. That was, until she had sought out solitude and the emotions came rushing back like a tsunami.

"Do you remember your name?" he asked. She huffed softly, once again grateful for his distractions. "What's in a name?" she said. "I don't. Even if I did, I don't think it would matter."

He surprised her by saying, " _I_ wish I could remember mine. It feels like it meant a lot, I just don't know what."

She looked to her right, watching him with faint astonishment at that statement, but she chose not to comment. Behind him a counter lined the edge of the room with various things lying on top of it; a tape recorder, the head of a duck, and a mangled Bendy automaton. The sight of the latter sent a shudder down her spine, and she quickly looked away. 

≻─────⋆✦⋆─────≺

Lacie plodded up the steps, her hand skimming over the handrail. She was ascending to Bertrum's office to inquire about the wiring of the track in the haunted house ride. Just as she reached the top, loud voices hit her ears. Wincing, she bung back at the topmost step and watched the scene in front of her. 

Bertrum paced back and forth -- something she had discovered to be an anxious habit of his -- behind his messy desk strewn with papers that bore sketches. Joey stood on the other side of the desk, hands gripping the edge of it as he leaned forward. Several feet behind Joey stood William Scott, an employee she did not see often unless Joey was nearby. William was silent, and paid no attention to her as he stared at any place besides the two men before him.

Lacie decided to wait for a moment, wisely choosing to not interrupt their conversation in fear that some of the anger buzzing in the air would be directed torwards her. She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall with one shoulder, brown curls brushing across her forehead.

Bertrum said, "Mr. Drew, I've told you countless times. This is _Bendy_ Land! You asked for a theme park centered around him, and only him, and so I have delivered. I will _not_ be adding wolves and angels into the mix, when these designs have already been approved by you and put into progress."

"Nonsense, Bertrum! Like I said, only a couple of add-ons here and there, and it would be even more magnificent! Just think, the people would get a taste of all their favorite characters, not just the demon," Joey responded. 

Lacie's hazel eyes widened slightly. She had not personally witnessed an argument between this pair up until this moment, but she could foresee the direction it was headed as Bertrum's face began to turn scarlet. 

"I will say this one last time," Bertrum said, his voice raising a notch and each word being pronounced slowly, like he was speaking to a child. "The design process is _long_ over. There is no more time, space, or money to include these fantasies of yours that you've thrown at me like a child wanting candy."

"See here, Bertie, I'm only asking for one or two displays-"

"Enough!" Bertrum loudly cut him off and pointed to the stairs, visibly trembling in anger. "This is my park, and I will not waste any more time with you. Get the hell out!"

Joey looked as if he was about to say something, but, after a tense moment of silence, he dipped his head. Lacie froze as the tall man turned and walked to the staircase with William trailing behind, but Joey seemed to ignore the middle-aged woman's presence as he passed. Once they were gone, she glanced at Bertrum. He sat on top of a crate and furiously sketched something, apparently unaware that she was there. With a quiet sigh, Lacie turned around and walked down the staircase, choosing to not disturb him.

≻─────⋆✦⋆─────≺ 

"Do you think our family misses us?" she asked. On natural instinct, it felt like they did.

He did not respond, causing her to look at him once again. "I'm not sure if I had any," he finally said, so quiet that she barely managed to catch it.

She nodded once, sympathy sweeping over her. In an attempt to lighten the darkened mood, she said, "Want to hear a song I overheard Sammy play on the banjo? I only know the tune of it."

"Sure," he said, shifting beside her.

She smiled slightly and began to hum. Her pitch was not perfect, by any means, but she supposed that hardly mattered down here. A song was a song. 

The wordless, moderately-paced melody wove through the air, reassuring her own broken spirit. A couple of minutes passed, each one lulling her closer to the realm of sleep.

Hardly conscious of her own actions, her head drooped down and rested against his left shoulder, ember-like eyes fluttering shut. Her hum died out, replaced by rhythmic breaths, until all she knew was a warm, peaceful darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me apologize - I made a mistake in the flashback section, where Bertrum and Joey discuss having only Bendy themed things. I just remembered that there's a Buddy Boris Railway, buut for the sake of me having to not rewrite the whole thing let's pretend it's the Bendy railway. ;)


	3. Chapter 3

_It was coming._

_The whirr of gears and menacing click of limbs sounded even closer behind her._

_She feared for her life as she ran, skinny legs swiftly carrying her down a corridor that stretched onwards for what appeared to be miles._

_But she was not fast enough._

_She screamed as a snap sounded just behind her ear, her larynx raw like she had been shouting for hours._

__Don't look behind you, _she silently told herself._

_But she looked._

_Pie cut eyes hungrily glittered down at her, belonging to the approaching animatronic._

_A half-sob, half-scream ripped up her chest, horror gripping her very being. She did not want to be captured by this demonic machine and succumb to the infamous well of voices, but there was no place to hide in this never-ending, wooden hallway._

_Her overworked muscles violently ached as she gasped for breath, daring to look back once more._

_Metal claws reached for her throat, barely an inch away. Before she could scream or plead for her life one last time, they curl-_

Her eyes shot open and her head jerked up. Her pounding heart felt like it was going to burst out of her chest, and a cry immediately tore from her mouth. It felt like those metallic fingers were clutching at her throat and cutting off all airflow, but, in reality, she had awoken from the horrific nightmare and sweet oxygen filled her lungs. 

She brought her knees up to her chest as she sobbed, burying her face into her hands. It was then when she heard someone shift beside her. Arms hesitantly wrapped around her torso from behind, and she froze in terror for a split second. She then remembered that she was with him, the other Lost One.

She leaned into his embrace, and his arms wrapped tighter around her as he pulled her against his chest, murmuring soothing noises in her ear. She continued to weep as she was positioned in between his legs, hardly aware of anything besides the lingering terror of the nightmare and his warmth. Finally, the latter won out on her senses, and she calmed down, an occasional hiccup and sniffle escaping her as the adrenaline faded away. 

"It-It was horrible," she whispered. "That animatronic over there in the corner was comin' after me, just like the Ink Demon, an-and-" She stopped talking in fear of breaking down again and settled for resting her head against his chest, focusing on the steady _thump-thump_ of his heartbeat - which, in turn, notably increased at her action.

"Shh, shh. You're okay. It hasn't moved," he said softly. His hands reached to hold hers that were in her lap, thumbs slowly tracing over the back of them. "We're safe from him."

She sighed softly, staring ahead. She did not want to close her eyes, dreading that she would see the malicious grin that seemed to be imprinted upon her eyelids.

Quiet moments ticked by with her nestled in his arms, until he shifted against her and spoke. "So . . . I was wondering if you would like to go on one of the rides here? It might be . . . fun." He pronounced 'fun' uncertainly. For her, it certainly was a foreign concept, one she had never dreamed of partaking in. "I don't see why not," she said. "Which one?"

He thoughtfully answered. "I've heard two rides are complete. . . The haunted house, for one, but I don't think more scares would do you any good. And there is that spinner inside one of the storage rooms. Are you okay with that?"

She nodded, and she got up and helped him to his feet. They began to walk, being sure to avoid the Butcher Gang members lurking outside of the room they had been in. Stretching her legs felt admittedly good, and the quiet walk with him by her side helped clear her mind. 

≻─────⋆✦⋆─────≺

"I'm going to need your help," Bertrum said, intensely staring at the Whipper Will-O before him. Lacie raised an eyebrow and looked behind her shoulder at the spinner ride that was completed. 

"Okay . . ." she drawled and shifted the duck head that she was holding in her arms. "What is it?"

"I'll explain more in a moment. Come with me," he said. She frowned, but complied and followed him to the room that she often spent a majority of her work hours in. He brought another man along with them, who also belonged in the Research and Design department and was clocking in for the morning.

Bertrum quickly put them to work on transferring an assortment of wiring to the Whipper Will-O. They asked was it would do, but he never told them. The mysterious aura the older man now bore puzzled them, but they nonetheless completed the assigned tasks. As the days wore on, he often oversaw their work, and Lacie also observed his appearance become more and more haggard.  He never let on to what weighed on him so heavily, and when she pushed a little bit harder for him to admit what it was, he snapped at her. That quickly subdued her, and also put her slightly more on edge. 

Approximately a week had passed since Bertrum had requested her help. The Southern woman was walking to her work space, absentmindedly humming a swingy tune. No one else was around. 

Or, so she had thought. 

A tall man standing at the entrance of the room came into sight as she entered it. Her brows furrowed as she came to realize that it was William Scott. 

"Hello," Lacie hesitantly greeted. She stopped walking and tilted her head to the side in confusion as she observed his stiff posture. "Can I help you?" 

"I'm so sorry," he instead said softly. "But I need you to come with me." William stepped forward and reached out, intending to forcefully take a hold of her. 

Lacie's breath quickly caught in her throat at the threatening gesture, and she took a step back. She turned to run and call for help, but before she could, flesh tightly wrapped around her neck. She was being held in a chokehold. 

Her hazel eyes bugged as her airflow quickly waned away, and her hands shakily reached up to claw at his arm that firmly pressed against her throat. Lacie's knees went weak as she saw the world before her blur, objects hazily meshing together. She could only hear the sound of her own choking. Her eyelids went heavy, and then, there was nothing. 

≻─────⋆✦⋆─────≺

They passed several vending machines and entered a room a few moments later, the Whipper Will-O looming just ahead. She walked around a table and inspected one of the multiple cars that was connected to one of the four arms that loosely hung down. He hung back and gazed around the room, seeming to be in a sort of trance. 

She looked back at the Lost One. "You know where the start switch is?" she asked. He appeared to shake himself out of his stupor and shrugged. "Not sure. Why don't you get on in, and I can look for it?" he said. She nodded and stepped inside of the angled car, frowning as she attempted to sort out how to bring the lap bar down. 

She finally secured the lap bar, then glanced over as she heard a click. He was standing over the table, and had pressed something on the tape recorder. He began to walk away from it, until a voice sounded from it. A very _familiar_ voice. He froze midstep. 

Angry dialogue poured out of it, and realization suddenly dawned upon her. The person speaking was _him_. She gaped at the ink creature. He appeared to be as flabbergasted as her as he stared at the recorder. Neither absorbed the words being spoken, only focused on the fact that _he_ had been the one to record it. 

Before she knew it, the talking faded away and the car beneath her lurched up. Her head snapped back, then forward. She cried in surprise as she was quickly jolted to the side, and she heard a shout from him. Then the room around her began to violently spin. A nauseous feeling bubbled up in her stomach, and she weakly attempted to grip the lap bar in order to remain in place as she slid from side to side. She tightly closed her eyes to block out the dizzying sights, but it did nothing to relieve the terror gripping her body. Air rushed past her, and then the erratic movements suddenly stuttered to a stop. 

The brief stillness was broken as the car was brought up, and down, then up again. She was flung out of the car and solid ground met her, driving the air out of her lungs as she landed face-first. A crash sounded just beside her, and she croaked out a groan, pain flooding through her body from the impact of her fall. Arms grasped beneath her armpits and dragged her away from the still moving death trap. Her eyes weakly fluttered open, and she saw that she was lying on her back - he had brought her to an empty space, boxes surrounding them. He crouched beside her and, over the loud noises, shouted, "Are you hurt?"

She shook her head 'no' as she determined that, thankfully, none of her limbs were broken, though her body felt battered and bruised. Shakily propping herself on her elbows in an attempt to sit up, she turned her head to the side and threw up, promptly emptying her churning stomach’s contents on the ground. 

He continued to fuss over her once her retching subsided, his hand reaching out to brush his fingertips against her cheek. "I am _so_ sorry," he said. "I had no idea that . . . this would happen. I should have been thinking." She shook her head in response to his apology and turned her gaze to the sporadic machine. She squinted as she caught a glimpse of a lolling head in the center of the raging amusement ride. 

"We need to get out," she rasped. He tore his gaze away from the grotesque figure in the middle. "Right. Are you able to move?" he asked. She nodded. He helped her to her feet and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. She leaned on him, and they began to move towards the exit, hugging the walls and pausing whenever one of the arms smashed down in front them. 

She breathed a heavy sigh of relief once they safely exited the room and left the theme ride behind. Their labored breathing, derived from the remaining adrenaline of the experience, was the only thing that broke their silent travel to the village located further underground. Once they entered it, he guided her to a makeshift shack that they shared with three other Lost Ones. He led her to one of the cots and she sat down, grateful that they were in a sheltered area and she could now rest her weary limbs. 

He looked as if he was going to say something, but she broke the silence first. "So that person back there was _you_? From your past life?" she asked. He looked down, then shrugged heavily. "I don't know . . . but it sounded much like me."

She pressed on. "Do you remember anything after hearin' that? And why the ride was messed up?"

He looked up sharply, brows furrowed. "I said I don't know!"

She flinched at his sudden outburst, and his expression softened. "I'm sorry - I didn't mean to lash out at you. It's just - I was so worried that I would lose you back there." he said, then sighed, shoulders sagging. "How about you get more rest? I can get some food for us while you sleep."

She dipped her head in response and laid down on the cot, resting on her side. She watched his retreating form, still staring at the door that closed once he left. Her mind raced, her thoughts almost incapable of keeping up with the tempo at which it moved. 

How could she sleep, knowing that another cared for her the way that he did in this miserable place? Her heart swelled with a warm, satisfying feeling. She could not pinpoint the name of the emotion, though, but focusing on the thought of it sufficiently kept her company during his absence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to point this out really fast - I purposefully chose to not have the door close down on them during Bertrum's ride scene, which is different from canon, just because it would have held up the story pointlessly. ^^


	4. Chapter 4

She was happy. 

Sitting across from him at the table inside of their shack, she could say that.

Yes, the pain and misery still remained. But it was a dull throb now, like a faint and forgotten heartbeat. 

She swallowed a bite of fish stew, orange eyes watching the steam curling above the bowl. The other Lost One had gone out while she rested -- or, rather, dozed on and off -- to recover from the traumatic event that had transpired with the deathly theme ride. When she awoke, she discovered that he had cooked a meal for them with the fish that he had caught.

A comfortable silence blanketed over them. He spoke up, elbows propping against the table. "Are you feeling better from yesterday?"

She nodded, feeling the steaming liquid slide down her throat. "I'm better, but still . . ." she trailed off and let her shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. He hummed in understanding and a few moments passed in silence. They finished eating and cleaned up, then she offered that they take a walk to the docks. He agreed, and they walked beside one another to where the wooden planks were laid out. 

They stood there for some time, exchanging an occasional side glance. The gentle swish of the black waves of ink against the docks soothed her, and she closed her eyes. Not long after, she felt his fingers hesitantly interlace themselves with hers. She opened her eyes and looked at him. He was studying her, seemingly deep in thought. 

"What are you thinkin'?" she quietly asked.

He glanced away, then down at their interlocked hands. "I think . . ." he said. "No, I know." His ember-like eyes met hers again. "I love you."

Those three words caused butterflies to erupt in her stomach. It was so foreign, yet felt so _right_. 

"I love you too," she whispered. Her throat tightened. Not even a week ago would she have ever dreamed of experiencing _love_ , yet here they were. In this hell, together. 

She reached to wrap her arms around his torso and rested her head against his chest. He returned the embrace and she could sense him rest his chin on top of her shoulder. She smiled; she wanted to cherish that moment, in his arms, forever. 

≻───── ⋆✦⋆─────≺

Lacie awoke with a groan, her eyelids fluttering open. Lying on her back, she was greeted with the sight of a dark ceiling. She attempted to prop herself up on her elbows, but the room around her spun and she stopped. She closed her eyes and focused on simply breathing, which proved to be painful as air scraped against her scratchy larynx. After a minute passed, she finally stood to her feet. Lacie cringed at her movements - her head was pounding with an awful headache. She blinked - were those jail bars? She took a moment to soak in her surroundings; what she found terrified her. 

She was standing inside of a large, makeshift jail cell, with stone at her feet and a musty scent permeating the air. Twisting her head revealed that there was an unconscious man in the back of the cell. He appeared to be the one she worked with on the Whipper Will-O earlier that week. Lacie turned around and her hazel eyes widened as she saw another familiar shape slumped in the shadows of a separate, singular cell. Bertrum Piedmont.

Lacie’s eyes widened in horror as the events prior to her awakening came flooding back. William Scott. What in the world did he want _her_ for, though? She grimaced as the possible outcomes of her situation flooded through her mind, and she chose to direct her attention away from that. Perhaps Bertrum would have answers - if he ever woke up, that was. 

Something liquid trailed down her neck. Lacie reached up and dabbed at her stinging cheek with her fingers, then pulled them away. Her finger pads were coated with blood, and the scarlet seeped into the fine cracks of her skin and outlined her fingerprints. Her cheek had a cut running across it, but the blood flow did not appear to be quick enough to be of any concern. She wiped her hand on her pants and settled down on the ground, pressing her back against the wall.

An eternity seemed to pass as she alternated between watching Bertrum's form and the closed door leading into the room. Lacie stood up to keep the blood flowing through her legs and crossed her arms as she leaned her shoulder against the wall to her left. 

Then Bertrum moved. The Southern woman stared at him as he awoke and stumbled to the front of his cell. He was quite a sight. His face was paled and contorted in pain, his grey hair was mussed, and a gag was bound over his mouth and rope around his wrists. "Bertrum - thank the Lord you're awake!" she said. "You've been unconscious since I got here and woke up. I thought you might be able to answer some of my questions . . . but I suppose not."

Lacie continued slowly. "Joey Drew. This moronic joke has to do with Joey."

True, William had been the one to take her down to God knows where. But if Bertrum was involved? Joey. After all, from the little that she had observed, William seemed to be close, in working terms, to Joey within the studio. 

The door leading into the room swung open, breaking her out of her thoughts. 

"Speak of the devil," the middle-aged woman murmured and clasped the bars in front of her. Joey came into view. His lean arm muscles rippled beneath his sleeves as he worked to roll the wheelchair he was sitting in along. He stopped to shut the door with a bang, then continued. He angled himself in front of Lacie's cell. She stared at his left leg. It was wrapped in a startling white cast. 

"What's the big idea, Joey? I haven't done my job well enough, and you want to lock me behind bars?" she asked. 

"Why, don't you already know dear? It's hardly a joke," Joey said. Lacie's weathered face fell as all hope was leached from the atmosphere.

"I see more than you think. Did you really believe that a new program installation in a ride would escape my notice? Of course, I did find out it was for Bertrum's personal gain." 

The short woman sharply looked at Bertrum, whose brown eyes widened. A raging expression crossed her features as the puzzle slowly pieced together, though still incomplete. The task of adding new wiring to the amusement park ride that Bertrum had assigned to her and the other man had done _something_ that Joey did not like. And perhaps it was the cause of his injury.

"I never knew it would hurt you! I swear, Bertrum was the one who had me work on that ride. I didn't - don't know what it even does!" Lacie protested, panic edging into her tone. 

Joey waved her off like a person waving away a fly. "Involvement in any threat towards my company I . . . don't like. Bertrum's timing was quite convenient, in fact." He cast a sneering glance towards Bertrum as he added, "In case you're wondering why you can't speak - your temper can get on my nerves quite easily."

"What _is_ so convenient about this?" she asked. Perhaps there would be a chance that she could talk sense into the crazy man. 

"Bertrum of all people would understand that personal plans are not shared. But I suppose it won't matter soon if you three know, anyhow." The foreboding words sent a shiver coursing through her body.

"That Bendy Land your department is building - it needs another touch. Something to make it stand out above and beyond the rest. People greeting the parkgoers in cartoon costumes is ordinary. A living, breathing cartoon - now _that_ would be extraordinary!" Joey's words were spun in a fervent trance, like he was delivering an inspirational speech to a large crowd. "Children and families would line up for miles on end to see the real, dancing demon. Imagine the money that would be made."

"Behind the scenes, I've been working. Details aren't important, but I found I need one more ingredient to make it possible . . . a human's soul."

Lacie's wavering voice cut through Joey's tirade. "The authorities will know that we're missin' - my family will tell them. This insanity of yours won't last long, and will just end you up behind bars."

Oh, her precious family. How she wished to see her grandchildren’s smiles one more time, to tell her husband and two sons that she loved them more than anything in the world. Her gaze traveled to the simple gold band on her ring finger, then flicked back to Joey. 

"My dear, we are," Joey paused and gestured at the whole room with a flourish of his hands. "Far beneath the studio. No investigation will lead anyone to this location I've built - so I wouldn't bother screaming for help, it would just tire you out."

She had to be dreaming. Dizziness swept over her and she leaned further onto the bars for support as she watched Joey wheel himself to face Bertrum's cage. As much as Lacie strained to see, she could not observe what he was doing to Bertrum the following minute, only capable of listening to his instructions, which involved Bertrum's bindings being taken away and him struggling in some manner. 

Finally, she saw Joey set a syringe by his side and withdraw a gun, which had dried blood caked on the butt of it. "Turn around," he ordered. Muscles tensed, Lacie watched as Bertrum rose from his knees and faced the blond-haired man.

Joey loaded the revolver and pointed it at Bertrum's chest. The trigger clicked. 

_Bang._

A scarlet circle blossomed to stain Bertrum's rumpled shirt and a crimson stream of liquid trailed out of his mouth and down the left side of his chin. A maniacal laugh bubbled from Joey's lips. 

Lacie gasped, horror-struck as his lifeless body tilted and fell to the side with a thump.

"Oh my God," she whispered, turning away from the gruesome scene. Her knees could not hold her any longer, leaving her kneeling on the ground. Her head fell in her hands as tears carved trails down her face, salty liquid intermingling with the dried blood. No sympathy struck her soul for Bertrum - only one thought repeatedly ran through her mind like a broken record.

_I don't want to die._

≻───── ⋆✦⋆─────≺

She was the one to lean out of their embrace. He looked down at her and tilted his head to the side slightly, the tentacles connected to his mouth swaying. She was suddenly aware of his cold fingertips brushing against her cheek, which sent shivers skittering through her. It looked as if he was about to say something, but a shout cut him off. With a startle, they both took a step back and looked to the clearing, where it had come from. In the middle stood a Lost One, who waved their arms frantically. 

The signal to take cover. 

The pair jumped into action and jogged towards their shack. They pressed into the space, which already sheltered the three others who lived there as well. Eyes wide, she peeked through the crack in the door to observe what was happening. A barge slowly moved towards the docks, churning ink in its wake. A Lost One behind them quietly explained that the two of them had missed Sammy's announcement. 

The Ink Demon was coming. 

And he and Sammy were not on good terms.

She stepped away from the door's opening, fear flickering through her like hungry, wild flames. They were going to pay the price for the demon's anger towards Sammy - she was sure of it. 

She felt his fingers wrap around hers and give a comforting squeeze. She looked at him and he gave a short, silent nod. It offered a slight amount of comfort, yet did not relieve her mounting anxiety. 

One of the other ink creatures moved to take her place and watched the events unfold through the door's crack. The five of them remained still for what felt like an eternity. The Lost One finally turned around, eyes wide with horror. 

"Sammy's dead. And the _angel_ is here."

Time seemed to stop. Out of any news they could have received, that was the worst. Her knees seemed to buckle beneath her, unable to support her. The fallen angel had caused the Lost Ones to cower away in silence for so, so long. The angel deserved revenge. 

He sharply inhaled, breaking her out of her trance. It was unspoken, but it was clear what everyone inside of the shack wanted to do. 

Kill the angel. 

"No," she said, "No, you can't. Please, just stay?"

He shook his head and reached down to pick up a wooden plank propped against a wall. He said, "She's kept us in agony for far too long. It's time she feels _our_ pain." The others vehemently nodded in agreement. 

Frozen in fear, she watched as he charged outside with the others into battle, leaving her alone in the shack’s doorway. They would surely all be murdered, sent to the screaming, inky well of voices and never to return - one of the many things that each creature in the studio dreaded. 

He sprinted to a man and began to swing the plank at him. 

The man swung an ax in retaliation. 

Once. Twice. 

He dissipated into a puddle of ink without a sound. 

A scream ripped from her throat. She hunched over, agony searing through her. 

No. 

No, no, _no_.

He can't be dead. He _can't_.

Not realizing that she was shouting the words, she charged into the fray, grief and sadness and pure anger blurring her vision. Teeth gritted, she swung at the nearest enemy, a wolf.

_It's my fault he's dead._

The wolf's ax gouged a blob of her ink away from her body, causing excruciating pain to shoot through her limbs. She remained silent.

_I should've held him back._

She retaliated, and he struck with the ax again. 

_It should be me._

It happened in a split second. She could not breathe. She looked down and saw her ink flow down, swiftly dripping away to pool at her deforming feet.

One, final thought passed through her mind before everything blinked to pitch black.

_I hope I get to reunite with him in that well._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to point out and be honest that the flashback scene and dialogue was taken from the fourth chapter of the first part of this series, Bertrum's Fate. While originally from Bertrum's pov, it was rewritten to Lacie's pov. But do believe me when I say it took the same amount of effort to remake it as writing something new is.  
> I don't feel great about regurgitating my old writing like this, but it's because the flashbacks were meant to add meat to the story, lead to that point, and I love Lacie too much to not. 
> 
> I had fun writing this (undeveloped) romantic story, and I hope you enjoyed as well! Feel free to comment what you think I can improve on.
> 
> Also, please go and tell at least one of your loved ones today that you love them.  
> ew, I'm getting sappy because of a fanfic.  
> In all seriousness, you never know when it will be the last opportunity to do so, so go spread some love today! Thanks a bunch for reading, and until next time! ♡


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